His Olivia
by ThatClutzsarahh
Summary: He needs his Olivia. He craves her. Post Season Finale.
1. Chapter 1

His Olivia

The clothes she wore were all wrong. The color of her eyes were all wrong. The way she walked, talked and ran was wrong. She wasn't Olivia Dunham by nature; she wasn't even Olivia Dunham by molecules. He'd seen every inch of her skin but never the tattoo on her neck. The real Olivia Dunham was trapped in a cold, dark cell in the other universe.

But Peter Bishop didn't know that.

He walks around in his own self-centered bubbled in this world, wallowing in pity and trying to see Walter's point of view for taking him. But he's distracted by her, by her scent, her lips, her eyes-her _everything._ He can't seem to find a reason in anything anymore, but he's trying. Because he wants to be with her, because he wants to be with _his_ Olivia, a beautiful blonde haired woman who always seems to be making up for something.

Peter lies awake in the dark of his room, a dim crack of light peering under the door as Walter paces downstairs or cooks or cleans. Walter doesn't sleep anymore. Peter senses his restlessness and he wallows deeper in pity and anger, blind to the unsettling feeling that begins to rest in his stomach. He tries to think of Walter's reasons, but he's blinded by anger and pity and the feeling of not belonging. He can't sense the feeling crawling under his skin raising bubbles in his blood and the hairs on his arms.

He closes his eyes and tries to sleep, rolling over in his bed and onto his side. But he can't. It's in his dreams. Olivia is there in his dreams, her deep green eyes and blonde hair. How he missed her blonde hair so much. Her scent was still fresh in his mind, her eyes and the taste of her lips. How he could simply drink from her lips and have her so willingly give the sweet nectar to him. She needs him just as he needs her. He loves her. She loves him. And just as he replays her kiss in his mind-

_Peter._

He jolts awake, eyes snapped open and sitting up. He's panting and the cold sweat creeps down his body. That voice, it belongs to her. She's here, not just in his dreams, but in his room. His heart races as he flips the lights on. But no one is there. Her voice was a whisper, but loud enough for him to hear. It didn't sound like she was happy, she sounded scared. He rubbed his eyes and settles back down into the blackness.

_Peter._

Her voice wakes him again. It's loud and clear, so very her, and the panic is clear. She's frightened and alone. He could hear it in her voice. But why is she scared? Why is her voice scared in his mind? He can sense her there, but he can't see her. Why is she so scared? His mind is fooling him so easily. He looks over and stares at the crack in the door, the light still on. Could she be downstairs and calling for him? Is she hurt? Does she need him there? Could the side effects be hurting her from the trip between universes? He feels the panic rising and decides he is acting silly before rolling over again.

_Peter!_

This time the voice is desperate, loud and pleading. He could practically hear the tears in Olivia's voice. He wants to believe he is dreaming, but he's not. He heard her. Flinging himself from his bed, he bothers not to pull a shirt on before yanking the door back. Flying down the stairs, Peter comes faces to face with Walter in the kitchen, his head down and staring at the paper that the observer gave him. Peter feels the boiling of anger in his blood as he sees Walter there in the kitchen. Walter looks up.

"Peter," he says painfully. Peter's gaze is frantic as he searches the kitchen.

"Olivia?" he asks. Walter's eyes fuzz and become confused.

"She's at her house," he answers as Peter looks in the other room. Peter doesn't believe it and shakes his head.

"She's here," he says forcefully, "I heard her. Where is she?"

"She's at her house Peter-"

"She's not! She's here! I heard her!"

"Peter-"

"No!" the panic rises in his throat as he throws aside doors and turns lights on. She was somewhere and she was scared. He heard her; she was calling for him.

But he didn't find her because he didn't know. He reaches into the closet and pulls on a coat, not caring about only being in his boxers and jacket. He can feel there is something off; he can feel there is something wrong. He flies upstairs and retrieves the keys to his car and his cell phone before flying downstairs and out the door. It was nearly 2 in the morning, but he didn't care. He had to know that she was not alone and frightened and that she slept soundly in her bed.

He arrives at her house in record time. He sees there is a light on in the living room and he knows she's home. There was a slight feeling of rest in his soul a he looked in. He wants to knock on her door, but he's not wearing pants. He's hoping she'll pass the window, a glass of wine in her fingers and her hair dyed back. Olivia had always been fond of her blonde hair. But he sits there for thirty minutes. The light stays on but she does not come by the window. He wonders if he should honk.

Instead he reaches in his jacket pocket and pulls out his phone. He ignores the bubbling sensation in his stomach as he presses the speed dial number for her -2. The phones rings, once, twice, three times. It clicks on and he can hear her. It sounds just like his dreams.

"Peter? Peter please, Peter you have to help me, she's not me, she's her. I'm trapped."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

He'd never had his heart broken. He'd never had felt this kind of emotional pain. It went beyond any physical pain he'd ever been in. There was no ice pack, painkillers, to drown out the hurt, alcohol couldn't comfort him and music could no longer fill the void. There was this massive gaping hurt in him and he couldn't heal it, there was nothing to heal it with. Though he'd never admit it, he had come back solely for her, because she was so broken when he saw her, so fragile and thin; she risked all this for him. She loved him, needed him. She was his Olivia.

But how could she be his when she's no longer here?

There was this rage, this hate, towards _her._ Towards _that_ Olivia Dunham. He wanted nothing more but to strangle her under his bare hands, to hold her down and watch the life leave her eyes, her sadistic, emotionless eyes, he'd watch her face burn away madly and he'd thoroughly enjoy it. All that rage and hate centered toward her, all that emotion of passion he felt toward her, he couldn't see colors but red. So it was a red vision as he drove, past his house, past the lab, past Edina and into the woods as far as he could go before finally breaking down.

He remembers vaguely slamming the door of the car, he remembers vaguely pushing through the brush of the trees, past the fallen oaks and over the growing ivy. He remembers vaguely the cold air and the pant of his breath as he went along, the sound of only his footsteps in the dark. He remembers the blackness glowing a hot red from his anger as he stormed through. He could not hear the silence, only the pounding hot blood in his veins, filling up his ears as he walks on. He knows where he is going, he's going to get her, no matter what anyone says.

Walter says they can't hear him, but he won't believe it. His father is smarter than Walter gives credit, but then again he doesn't know how brilliant Walter is either. Peter knows that his father has tabs on him. He knows that if asked he'll bring him back through. Peter is going to the one place he'll know his father will hear him. His shoes make soft noises though he forces them down. He knows it won't be frozen right now, but the shore will be close enough. He will hear him. He will come.

Peter's footsteps slowed as the brush began to clear. It was hard to imagine that a car had driven through here nearly a year earlier. He wonders what Walter is doing right now, then he wonders what his mother is doing. Is she crying? He wonders what his father is doing, is he hurting his Olivia? The thought makes his blood boil again, and he comes to a short halt at the edge of the lake. It's quiet and peaceful here, and for a moment he thinks about heading away, letting the anger settle. But he thinks then of Olivia and her frightened voice, and how he could nearly see her panic in her eyes.

"Walter!" Peter cries into the air. It's a loud booming sound. The forest goes quiet around him, as if it too knows that there is something unnatural happening here. The quiet remains for moments longer before the impatience in Peter erupts again.

"Newton!" he roars loudly, his voice drifting into the breeze. He swears he knows they hear him. His eyes are filling with tears of hate, rage, all the passionate emotions he has are filling his mind. He no longer wants his father to find him, he needs it, he craves it. It's the craving he needs to have his Olivia back. He needs her.

"I know you can hear me!" he shouts angrily, "I know you're there!" It's raw emotion in his voice, unleashed and untamed as he cries out into the night. He can feel them around him, swirling in the leaves. He can feel his father's presence, Newton with him, like his father is watching an experiment, observing him like an observer.

"Walter! I know you can hear me! Newton I know you're there! Show yourself you cowards, show me you're a better man than Walter, show me you're a better father!-"

Peter stops mind sentence as the sound of footsteps from behind him fill his ears. He spins, face to face with an observer, his hate placed in his hands. He had been watching Peter. Peter is panting, his stance defensive, yet ready to attack the man. The observer watches him curiously, cocking his head to the side in a mysterious way. Peter feels threatened, he wants to hit him, but the rage in his body is telling him he wants to hurt anyone that stands in his way.

"You won't hurt me," calmly speaks the observer, still watching Peter through curious eyes, "You are angry. This was not supposed to happen. This was not written. You must fix this-"

"Where is Walter?" Peter shouts angrily, "I know you know!"

"You need Olivia," the observer states simply, "We need Olivia too. You must save her."

"Tell me where she is!" Peter roars, lunging for the man. He steps sideways and vanishes, leaving a confused Peter. He wheels around in rage, searching for the man. He wants to squish him, ring his neck. But his not to be found. Peter spins back to the lake and there is the observer, standing a distance from him.

"This was not written," he restates, "You must fix this Peter. Be a better man than your father."

And with that the observer disappears from Peter's vision with the lake, the woods and darkness, all gone in a blue flash of lights. Peter's confused and disoriented for a moment as his feet lift from the earth and onto the even surface of his father's office. He meets his father's eyes for a moment as he lands before he collapses to the ground in a heap. His father is surprised by this but is relieved he came back.

Peter just wants his Olivia, and he intends to get her.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

It was a rough journey. Peter was in a coma for three days. Obviously it was not by choice, but it was rough on his body. His mind had shut him down from function. He spent three glorious days trapped in the deepest recluse of his mind. And he would have been more than happy to stayed there forever.

In his mind Olivia was there. Not the damaged Olivia he knew now, but the Olivia he had met. The Olivia capable of pushing all his buttons and still having him come back to her the next day, the Olivia who could count cards, the Olivia with the terrible jokes, the Olivia that could hold her whiskey. She was there with him, in his mind, perfectly happy and content. He was there with her, both standing on a beach in the warm sun. It was a picture-esk moment and it was easy to lose himself in this dream. For three days he stayed there with her, in paradise, in his mind. Three days was much to short though.

Peter opens his eyes slowly to look about. He's in the same room as he was in when he first arrived. A room that was in his father's house, a room that he thought had once belonged to him as a child. He sits up and looks about the place, it's well lit from natural light and he can see that the New York skyline is dark and glowering, rain threatening to fall at any moment. He blinks and then rubs his eyes, taking in the invasive light as he wakes slowly from he mind. He's confused, but only for a moment.

He remembers everything and he remembers why he's here. He remembers her pleading voice and it almost makes threatening tears fall from his face. He remembers the rage he felt, the rage now returning. He struggles to stand, grasping firmly the side of the bed. He's half clothed, but he stumbles out of the room and down the hall. He could almost sense his father's presence at home. But Peter did not feel at home here, it was not his home. He stumbles toward the great room and the kitchen.

The doors burst open at his will with ease, causing his mother to drop the plate in her hand in fright. He hears it shatter in the distance, her gasp in his ears, but all he wants to hear or wants to see is his father, who sits so smugly at the table, a cup of coffee in his fingers. He's not even startled at Peter's dramatic entrance and he lazily, almost evilly, lifts his gaze to his son, who is only able to see hate.

"Good Morning son," his father greets nonchalantly. But Peter's not having it. He walks over to the table and leans on it, leering over the old man with a hate in his eyes he'd never used before.

"You have her," he says. It wasn't a question, more of an accusation. His father shrugs.

"I don't know who or what you're talking about," his father answers. Peter growls like an animal, a sound he'd never heard himself make before.

"Olivia Dunham!" he shouts, shaking the table. Somewhere in the background he heard his mother stop moving. She should have known he would come back for her. He needs his Olivia like someone needs water.

"I don't know where she is," he plays into Peter's anger. Peter shakes his head.

"You have _my_ Olivia," he whispers venomously, "I know you have her."

His father's amusement can no longer be contained in his eyes. He smiles, a wicked grin.

"That Olivia," he answers, "What makes you think I have her?"

"You didn't think I wouldn't _notice?_" he shouts loudly, "You didn't think I wouldn't notice that she isn't _my _Olivia? How daft do you think I am? I know my Olivia, she's not her!"

"Really? Are you sure you know her?" His father knows he's been beat, but he tries to make Peter doubt himself. He tries to make Peter second guess himself.

"I know the woman I love!" he roars. His mother drops the glass in her hand and it shatters on her feet. She gasps and screams lightly but Peter doesn't turn. His father looks at her and stands, rushing to her side but his mother shoos him away. She had no idea what Peter was leaving behind when he came over. And now Walter holds his woman captive in a small padded cell. There was no way Walter would ever let her go now. Not if she's the reason Peter came home.

"I'm all right," his mother says, "Honestly."

Walter smiles at her and turns back to his son, whose eyes are spitting flames.

"I have a press conference this morning," Walter smiles, "That you've returned home. You are going to be famous," he continues, "We can talk about this later. You're not thinking straight-"

"I am thinking straight!" Peter shouts at his father's retreating form, "Don't think I came back for you!" he seethes, "I would never come back for you, not after what you tried to do to me! I came back for my Olivia! Where is she-"

He's yelling at a closed door now. Peter slumps down to the floor, feeling weak from the sudden trip over here. He wants to break down and cry but he knows he can't. He feels completely defeated and weak. He knows it's not just from the journey. Olivia was his pillar, his anchor to reason. She's been missing to long already. He watches his mother from his spot on the floor. She's picking up broken glass from the floor.

He stands and wobbles over to her, kneeling down to pick up the shards. She's not speaking to him, but she makes eye contact. She sees the love for the girl in his eyes and it breaks her heart right there. She thinks she selfishly took her son from his lover. She wants to help him she wants to not feel that heavy guilt that she feels when she looks at him. So she looks him dead in the eyes and speaks.

"I know where we can find her."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

He doesn't want this fame. He doesn't want these lights in his eyes, these people crowding him. He doesn't want the whirl of people struggling to see him now or the chatter and screams of women as he steps out from his home. He doesn't want any of this at all. He's almost angry, frustrated that this is what he's going to be now. But all this is distant in his mind. As he steps from his house with his mother he only wants one thing.

Olivia.

His mother said she would help him. His mother knew best. Peter could smile at how wise this mother was compared to the woman who had committed suicide nearly ten years prior. His mother pushes her way through the throngs of interested news reporters and Peter shoves his way through them as well, roughly though, and he knocks a few to the ground. He has no time for them though. Time for him has been cruel. It had been much to long for him to be away from his Olivia, and his patience had stretched thin.

He could feel the hysteria in him rising as his mother fumbles with the keys to the car. Her slow pace was breaking him apart slowly and he wanted nothing more but to grab the keys from her and drive. She unlocks the doors and he swiftly enters the car, slamming the door and sitting patiently. There was no need for words between them. He was so desperate to see Olivia then and she could feel the desperation from him rolling off in waves. His mother turns the keys in the inginition and the car starts. She drives on, driving toward the one building she wasn't allowed in, but she knew, she knew what was in there.

"How long," she asks suddenly, startling both herself and him. He looks at her and she repeats, "How long have you loved her?"

Peter's not sure how he should answer. He's not sure what to say so he shrugs. "A long while."

His mother nods and chokes back tears as she drove on. She drives for a while longer before pulling to stop outside a building. It's broken down and the fence is old, but the sign that reads Keep Out is new and has Walter's signature all over it. She turns of the engine and sighs.

"Here," she says simply, "This is where she'd be."

Peter looks at his mother with kind eyes and he reaches across the seat and holds her to him. His mother was so much more than he could have ever asked for. He inhales, memorizing her smell; he doubts he'll ever see her again. He wants to cry, the moment is solemn but he can't cry now because he needs to be focused. He slides her from his grasp and nods before he climbs out into the open.

He's fair game now and he knows it. With swiftness he climbs the fence, his breath heavy with each heave as he pulls his body over. He knows he can only take so much stress before he collapses. It's too early,, too soon for him to be putting so much strain on his body after that trip. But he hardly cares. As he rips off a piece of metal he can feel the blood in his body beginning to wear down, he can feel his body's strain. He finds the door and pryes it open. It's dark but he enters the building.

He clings to the bar that he used to pry the door open. He stumbles around, he can feel the weight of his movements on his body and he can feel his muscles tightening. He doesn't care though. He runs forward, blindly looking at the drawn shades. He's sure there are windows behind them but he doesn't know which one is the one she's behind.

He can hear the sound of a gun and he ducks. He's not sure where it came from but he rolls around. His heartbeat is loud, too loud in his ears as he spins about. He sees Charlie's double, his alternate form as he points a gun at him. Peter is frantic and he knows he's nearly out of time so he darts forward. He swings blindly at an agent as he enters, hitting him square in the head. He bolts down a hall that's dimly lit. There's only one window and he races towards it. He can't hear the clamoring of agents behind him because all he hears is his pulse. He knows his time is limited.

He reaches the window and slams into it, using the wall to support himself. He knows that metal shades are light, but to his weakened state it's heavy and he struggles with opening it. There was a glass window. He can't see anything because it's dark and he fumbles around for a light switch. His heartbeat becomes faster and faster. The light flips on painfully slow.

She's there. Her eyes are wide and scared but the minute she sees him she stands and runs to the window. He's panting and breathing hard and his eyes are slipping out of focus. He manages a smile at her and he places his hand against the glass of the window. She smiles back at him but the terror won't leave her eyes. This time it wasn't for her life, but his. She watches as he's slowly loosing his grip on reality and she tries to bring him back. Her face is pressed to the glass as is his. She can see the others coming down the hallway. She'd never forgive herself if he died for her.

And she lets out a blood curtling scream as she watches Peter's life fade from his eyes as the darkness takes him. And he slides down the glass and into unconsciousness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than the rest, but I wrote three or four different version of it. I settled on this one though. I hope you guys like it. If you want I can put up the other versions later. :) Anyway, enough with my bothersome text, nobody really reads this, right? ;) onto the chapter!**

Chapter five

He never expected his father to be such a cruel man. The father he knew wasn't cruel, simply ignorant. This man that is his father is cruel and heartless, a sociopath. Peter wanted nothing less than to think he wasn't as cruel. But looking back on his own life, he realized now that he was equally as cruel. His life had been a mislead path of wandering the globe. He wondered if he was equally as heartless as his father is.

Peter stands in his father's office now, a strange medical device attached to his arm. His father's back is to him as he stares out the window. He's angry, but not as angry as Peter is. He doesn't remember how many days he spent in the hospital, but he remembers clearly how he ended up there. There's rage pouring out of his eyes and stabbing directly into his father's back. He wonders if he can feel it. His hands rest in his pockets as he stares at his father. He needs answers.

"You have to understand Peter," his father begins in monotone. There was no emotion in his voice and it creeps him out.

"She is not from here," he continues, not facing him, "We needed her. We needed to study her-"

"You keep her caged up like an animal," Peter answers him, "Like a lab rat. You want to study her like a lab rat-"

"Yes," his father answers, facing him now, "You weren't supposed to know the difference."

"It was Olivia. You made a mistake," he answers, a slight smirk on his face, "Her phone." He doesn't dare tell his father about the trials Walter conducted on her. He wonders if she could tell him she was in danger or if he really dreamt it.

"Yes," his father answers as he walks around the desk to see his sons face, "She's quite special, isn't she?"

There is this gleam in his father's eye and Peter is weary.

"Leave her alone," he hisses to the older man. His father grins, his wicked and cruel grin.

"Tell me Peter," he says as he nears his son, "Is there something else about her, something else that makes her special-"

"I care about Olivia," Peter answers him with venom, "What you're doing to her is wrong."

Walter has no response and he turns his back to his son. It's like he can't answer his son at all. He walks away from his son and back to the window.

"Charlie will take you to your apartment," Walter says, changing the subject. Peter shakes his head.

"I want to see Olivia," he says, "I want you to let her go."

Walter is quiet for a while as he looked out the window. It was a strange quiet and Peter began to feel it. There was this wickedness in the air. Walter turns back around and smiles at his son.

"You can see her," he begins and Peter holds his breath, "If you and help me."

Peter's eyes narrow at his father.

"Your plan was to destroy the other universe. What good does that bring this one?"

"And you don't want me to because she was from there," Walter answers, "But she's here now. And she can stay, if you help me."

"What you want is wrong," Peter argues. But his father shakes his head.

"You can see her if you stay."

Peter is quiet then. He doesn't know what to say. He wants to fight, to hit and beat his father. But he wants his Olivia. He wants her so badly. The image of her in the box is burned into his mind. Her gray sweatshirt hung loosely on her body. She was holding herself when he saw her and she sprang to see him. Her eyes. Her beautiful green eyes, they were so hurt, so frightened. His heart was breaking when he saw her. He couldn't believe his father could be so cruel. It was heartbreaking. Her fingers pressed against the glass next to his, her face reading his. Though it's vague he remembers it. He remembers her. He craves her still.

Peter thinks he should go through with it. But he could never live with himself knowing her world is gone. If her world is gone, she'll hate him, because he was at fault. He couldn't live with her hate. He couldn't live with himself. But he remembers her, her abilities. His father doesn't know. If he could find a way back, a way into his universe again then maybe he can stops this. He can get away from his father. He remembers the observers. They wouldn't let him do this, would they? They control events. He remembers the one that met him when he wanted back over he said he could fix this. Peter's mind turns and a plan forms. He steps forward, a wobbly step, as he is still weak. His father's back is to him and Peter hides his plan from his eyes.

"All right," he says to his father's back, "I'll do it."

He knows that his father will be pleased. He will keep his side of the deal. Peter will get his Olivia back, but it will only be on borrowed time.


	6. Chapter 6

**As Promised, a longer chapter. Most P/O chapter of the bunch, I think. I tried to keep everyone in character, but i don't know how well i succeeded. Let me know if i did so? :) **

Chapter Six

Peter waits in his father's office. He's just gotten off the phone with Broyles and he's left the room for the moment. Peter knows that he's gone off to meet Broyles, who has his Olivia with him. His arm is throbbing from the strange medical patch and he idly picks at it with his fingers. His father's only been out of the room for a few moments but it's too long for Peter. He knows that when his father returns Olivia will be with him. He moves to sit in on the couch. His heart is pounding loudly. She'll be here any second.

He hears the echoes of footsteps and his heart races. There are more than two sets of different steps and he stands, turning to face the door. There is a brief few seconds before he sees his father enter, behind him comes Broyles and then Charlie. Then _she_ came into the room and everything comes to a stop.

Her hair has grown and the color faded. She's very frail and thin, thinner than normal and her eyes are sunken into her face. She's in handcuffs and leg restraints and he feels a smile crawl onto his face. She's already tried to get away once. He looks at her beautiful green eyes and he sees relief. But he also sees fear. But she reads the love in his eyes and her mirror his own, full of relief. Before he knows it he's already taken steps toward her.

He clings to her like a starving man would cling to a full meal. He's buried his face in her hair and has pulled her tightly into him. Her hands are pressed to his chest, her face in his shoulder and he can feel the dampness from tears on it. He's trying to completely cover her with his body and he could care less about the audience in the room. She's even thinner in his arms and he just wants to hold her for forever. He can feel the terror rolling off her and into him. But he wants that feeling to go away and so he holds her.

"Livia," he breathes into her hair and she nestles closer to him. He smiles and plants so kisses in her hair. He can feel her relaxing in his arms. He lifts his head to see his father standing next to Broyles who looks unaffected and Charlie, who can't believe what he's seeing. His father's face is void of any emotions and all he can see in his eyes is this sick fascination, like this too, his son, was an experiment as well. His eyes are cold toward this man. He plans to make sure his father doesn't know his plan.

"Well?" His father asks after a few moments more of simple silence. Olivia tries to pull away but Peter holds her to his chest. He nods and plants another kiss in her hair before letting her go.

"All right," he says, "But she stays with me. That's the price. She's not going back to where you had her."

He could almost see his father trying to say no. But there's something else in his eyes and Peter realizes he's got another plan in his mind. But it doesn't bother Peter.

"All right son," his father answers, grinning his horrid smile. It sends a shiver down Peter's spine. Olivia looks up at Peter and then steps away. He doesn't want to let her go, but he does anyway. She stands away from him as he moves forward. He's much taller than his father and they stare at each other for a few moments.

"Broyles will take you two to your apartment," Walter says before he turns back to his desk. Peter feels a small smirk grace his lips. He's won, for now.

He remembers the apartment. How could he forget it? There was the table, and he could almost see the glass of wine on it from before. He could almost see the plans drawn on the table. But it's clear now. The whole place is spotless, even the broken glass from where Olivia hit Charlie over the head is gone. His arm supports Olivia as they enter and he eases her into a chair by the large glass windows. Her eyes watch his the whole while and he smiles at her before turning back around to Broyles and Charlie. Broyles was able to hide his indifference, but Charlie there was some anger in his eyes as he looked at Peter. Peter's expression remained cold.

"The Secretary will be calling shortly." It was a curt message from Charlie and with that Broyles and Charlie left. Peter turns his attention back Olivia.

She's sitting on the couch with her back to him. The room grows silent since the door has shut and it hangs heavy in the air. Peter doesn't know what to say because he never dreamed of this moment before. He's dreamed up different ones, but never this one. Her breath raises her shoulders slightly as she inhales, and drops them as she exhales. It leaves this jittering feeling in his stomach.

Maybe this was how John felt when he loved her. Peter wouldn't know. He doesn't like to remember that time. That was when he was cruel and he doesn't want to be anymore like his father now. But he is certain John felt this way for her. But he's long gone. So nobody feels this way about her, not like his does. And, even as she sits still he feels this way, his racing heart and fired nerves telling him that she's everything to him.

He never pictured this to be this. He pictured them returning to their world and having the best night of their lives and Peter finding out she really was as wonderful as he thought she was. But they were not home, and he could not be with her like that right now. With careful steps he approaches the couch and stands behind her. The view is romantic and beautiful. She knows he's there but doesn't move.

"Peter," she finally speaks, and the crack in her voice tells him that she's been crying and she's been scared. He runs his fingers through her long hair, already fading from the red dye.

"Shh," he answers her pressing his face down in her hair, "Livia, rest, don't speak."

"I was so scared Peter," she whispers, turning to look back up to his face, "I saw you and I thought I was saved, but you, you-" her eyes begin to tear up and he takes his thumb to rub them away, "You looked so weak all of a sudden. Then C-Charlie, I saw him and the gun," tears began to fall freely down her face and she makes no attempt to hide them, "And you slide down the glass. I thought you had been shot. I could not live with that if you had. I could not let you die for me."

Peter moves around to kneel in front of her, resting his hands on either side of her face. His face is solemn and quiet and he stares deeply into his Olivia's green eyes. Her speech spills on.

"But I was being selfish Peter," she says, trying to advert her glassy eyes, "I wanted to you to be safe so that someday you could be with me. I never told them. I never did. I was protecting you because I wanted you-"

"Olivia, that's not selfish," he answers quickly, stroking her cheek. He can't tell her he loves her, it's too early in their relationship for that. He doubts she can tell him that as well. Her eyes stare into his and her hands hold his as he holds her cheeks.

"Olivia," he continues, "I came back to save yo-"

"I was so scared Peter," she whispers.

"I know Olivia."

"But you shouldn't have come back," she says, "I would make it out eventually."

"But Olivia," he says to his sweet Olivia, "I did come back. I came back because you said that I belonged with you. I came back because I believed you. I came back because I care. I care about you."

"I care about you too Peter," she whispers.

And that was it, right there, it wasn't love, but it was just enough.


	7. Chapter 7

**So here is chapter seven. Sorry about the delay, internet went down in my area for a few days. This will be the last of really gushy P/O moments for a while. Also another note, i leave for a trip on sunday so this could be our last chapter for a week or i could be able to post another on saurday night. Either way, enjoy!**

**

* * *

**

Chapter seven

It's well past one in the morning and Peter's been awake for a long while. He can't sleep because his mind won't rest. He keeps thinking getting out of there, he doesn't know how. He can't activate Olivia's power and he's pretty sure Olivia doesn't know either and the one guy that could help them died valiantly helping the wrong Olivia back into the other universe. Peter fears there's no way home and that he'll end up complying with his father. He'll never forgive himself for destroying their universe, _her _universe. He sighs and stares at the ceiling.

In the darkness comes the shrill of a woman's voice and he sits up. He's been awake, but a sound that loud and holding that much panic scares him into sitting in bed. He listens for a moment and hears it again, the terror in the voice. It rises and falls and he realizes the voice belongs to Olivia and in a second he's up on his feet and racing out his bedroom door and down to her room in his apartment.

His own heart beats loudly in his chest as he flies into her room. She's thrashing wildly under the covers, her face twisted into this horrible looks of pain. It knocks him still for a second. It's the kind of pain on her face that nobody should every wear. He's at a complete stand still at that look and it terrifies him to the point where he actually feels scared. The frightened tears prick his eyes. He climbs over to her bed and sits next to her, shaky her shoulders. She flings her arms about, trying to hit her attacker in her sleep. He grabs her by the shoulders and holds her to his body tightly. She still fights him.

"Livvy," he says calmly, "Livvy it's me, it' all right."

She fights for moments longer before relaxing. Her eyes open slowly and she stares up at the scruff under his chin. She's half awake but manages to mumble to him.

"You need a shave Peter," she whispers and then breaks into tears. He knows it's no place for laughs or grins so he doesn't. He simply sits there while she cries into his arms. He comforts her.

"It's a dream Liv, all it was."

She didn't speak or attempt to, just simply clung to him. He feels her face against his bare chest and he feels her listening to the calming rhythm of his heart. She hears the skip as he realizes what she's doing. She untwists herself from his arms and smiles up at him.

"What?" he breathed and she smiles sadly.

"Thank you," she says, gently touching his cheek.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asks in a sweep of a breath, but Olivia shakes her head.

"I'll be all right," she says and he sighs. It was just like her to say that. Olivia smiles and touches his cheek before turning her back to him. He's stunned into silence and only sits there on her bed. He knows that she's being strong, but he also knows that once he leaves, the nightmares will return to her. So he decides.

"Peter," she whispers into the blackness, "What are you doing?"

"I want to stay," he whispers, "I want to make sure, this time you really are going to be all right."

She's lost her ability to speak and only nods as he curls himself into her back. His arm drapes over her as he clings to her. For once in her life she feels as if this is where she belongs. But she knows she can't stay long in these arms. Every man she's ever been involved with, romantically or not, as ended up dead. She selfishly wants him to live so she can keep him. It makes no sense if she says it allowed, but the circle she runs in her mind is as clear as day. She has to let go in order to selfishly keep him. She feels him nestle into her back, his face pressing into the space between her shoulder blades. She feels the silent tears fall down her face.

He can practically hear her mind working over. She's already over thinking this. Peter can feel it in her body as he holds her to him. He wants to feel her relax in his arms. He wants to tell her without words that she's exactly where she should be. But he doesn't know how to say that. And he afraid, he's afraid that she'll slip away from him. She was good at doing that, letting go. He knows she doesn't do it for herself.

"How long," she whispers into the night. Peter kisses between her shoulders to keep from answering.

"How long," she repeats, her fingers lacing in his, "Do we have to stay?"

Peter places another kiss between her shoulders and sighs, the stubble of his chin rubbing her back.

"I don't know," he whispers into her skin. Her body goes tense.

"We have to go back," she whispers a while later. This time it's Peter's arms that tense. She lets the silence penetrate the air for moments longer before flipping over in his arms and staring into his eyes.

"We have to go back Peter," she whispers looking into his eyes, "You know that."

He wants to ask her why and do we really, but he remains quiet because he sees in her eyes that she's about to tell him why.

"Think about Walter, about Astrid," Olivia says, "I can't just stay here forever. I have to see my family, my sister, my niece-" she chokes off into tears and he holds her still for a moment. He sighs resignedly into her hair.

"All right," he answers her, "It's all right. We'll find a way back, I promise."

She smiles at him and rubs her hand against his cheek. She laughs silently for a moment and he cocks his head.

"But seriously, Peter," she says in a whisper, "You really do need a shave."


	8. Chapter 8

**Yay! So I'm leaving for Vaca tmrw, so the next chapter won't be up for a week or so. So i leave you with a cliff hanger! (another, right?) I hope it's not too muh P/O because i intended it to focus on other aspects. Also, I'm writing another little ficlet inspired by Olivia's mention of Rachel to Peter. It's an insight on the Peter Rachel relationship! It'll be up later this week or next. But for now, here you go!**

Chapter Eight

He's used to normal girls. He's used to being the first one out of bed, feeling their eyes as they watch him dress, turning back to watch them before stepping out the door and leaving. But then he remembers that Special Agent Olivia Dunham is not your average woman.

He remembers that all those women had been one-night stand types. He's never shared a bed with a woman that he was sexually intimate with and it was strange. Don't get Peter wrong, he'd love to be with her like that, but Olivia wasn't the one- night stand type and she certainly wasn't the kind to be in 'friends with benefits' relationship, and Peter felt that this time, for the first time in a long while, she was something else, something more.

Peter wanders down the hall and into the small kitchen, the strange urge to make her scrambled eggs filling his mind. He thought about Olivia and about his previous relationships. Olivia Dunham wasn't the mushy type, she wasn't the kind to hold hands with down the street or wrap his arm around on the sidewalk. She wasn't the type that liked to receive any fancy gifts or wasn't the kind for anniversaries, but loved surprise boquets of flowers. Olivia was the camping kind, the kind that liked to have big homes and drive SUV's and have a family. She was the kind that didn't need company and was careful with who she picked to love and accepted into her life. Peter was a man that lived in the city, crawled around at night and needed his friends no matter who or how they came to know him. Logically, they should have never been able to work out. But there was this one factor that negated all the rest in her. Her ability to mask _everything._

"Smells good," drifts her voice as she enters the kitchen. She's wearing his shirt that his father put in the room and his sweats. Peter can't hold back a small smile.

"Scrambled eggs," he answers, dropping the plate in front of her. She climbs onto the stool and reaches for the fork he holds out for her. She smiles again as he hands it to her.

"My favorite," she answers him. He smiles at her before turning back to wash the dishes. A knock on the door stops him.

He turns and Olivia's frozen. Her face doesn't show fear or hurt or any other emotion, just a solemn look as she gazes into Peter's eyes. He nods at her before heading toward the door. Whoever it was would have to deal with his lack of clothes at the moment. He pulls it aside and stares at his father. His father's mouth is twisted morbidly into a grin as he looks at his son. There's a flicker of disgust as he took in his clothes. Peter wants nothing more than to wipe it from his father's face right there.

"Get dressed," he father commands, "You have company coming."

Peter grumbles and slides the door open for his father before shutting it behind him. Olivia's in the kitchen and as he follows his father around the corner into the kitchen he can see Olivia's face. It's stone cold. Her face is blank of emotion. For the first time in Peter's life he could not read the emotions that danced in her green eyes. Then the chilling fact hit him; she had no emotions toward his father. His father scowled at her.

"Hello dear," is all he says to her. Peter waits for her reaction but she gives none. He heads quickly into the other room to change into something.

His father's seated himself on the couch that Olivia had been sitting on the night before. His face is staring out the view with a passive expression. Olivia is at the bar stool where she had been, but the dishes were finished and put on the drying rack now. The tension is thick in the air between them. One is responsible for the others pain and the other is responsible for the one's pain. It was a horrid circle of pain that Peter had caused at one time. But his father was not the man from his memory, his father is a horribly cruel man and the things he did to his Olivia where inexcusable.

His father sees him in the reflection of the glass and turns to look at his son. His eyes are completely unreadable and it puts Peter in an uncomfortable state. Peter returns the cold stare with his own stare and he feels the temperature in the room dropping.

"An old friend," his father begins, "Wants to see you. I've invited her over for the day. She'll join us for dinner."

"How long do you plan to drag this out?" saps Peter at his father and his father shrugs at him.

"How ever long it takes," he says simply. Peter wonders what it means.

"Any way," his father continues, "She'll be-" there was a knock-"She's here."

Peter watches at the man moves from his place on the couch to the door with ease. He swings the door open and Peter hears the soft 'hello dear' followed by the sound of a female's voice. The door shuts and his father walks back into the room.

She was pretty with raven hair and sapphire eyes. She was tall and curvy, wearing perfectly flattering clothes. She wore a small pleasant smile on her lips as she looks at him. She looked so familiar to Peter, but he couldn't place it. Her eyes light up as she looks at Peter. She was shining like an angel. She could make any woman look plain next to her, he noticed and was surprised by the whoosh of her flying into his arms.

"Peter," she whispers happily, her sweet breath tickling his ear, "It's been so long."

Peter pulls her back away from him and he smiles at her; her smile is contagious. Peter cocks his head to one side and looks at Walter. Had he known her when he was young?

"Son," his father says, "I don't know if you remember, but this is Evelyn, she lived across the street from us. She was your best friend."

"Evelyn," he says, the words vaguely familiar. Then he says, "Evie," and she smiles at him, a beautiful, blinding smile.

"You remember Peter," she says hugging him again, "I've missed you so much."

He smiles as he remembers her, vague pieces of memory, a garden tea party, a game of hide and seek, the bus to school, the wedding between them. He relaxes in her embrace. She was a beautiful memory; it was hard to imagine this girl was the same girl as then. She was an angel then and now, unmatched by any girl.

Unmatched, even by the green pools of pain that Peter was now slowly drowning in.


	9. Chapter 9

**So I came back a day early from my trip! It was very nice to be gone, but the funny part was I typed this chapter on my iphone while i was there! Lol, anyway, II'm working on a fun 'M' rated one shot right now, but this was the next installment of this story, so by all means, read it please! :)**

**Oh and a special treat, this chapter is DOUBLE the length of any previous ones :) That's how much i love you guys :) you're all so awesome!**

Chapter Nine

Olivia sits at the table with Walternate as Peter is on the dance-floor, twirling about a beautifully dressed, tall, curvy woman in his arms. In Olivia's opinion she's more like an angel than a human in her movements. She's graceful and fluid in her steps, there is a smile plastered on her face as she spins and her dress is flawless on her. Olivia's always been the jealous type but this woman that Peter spins about in a swift movement makes her feel so insignificant in comparison, so much that it looks like she belongs with Peter rather than her.

Peter spins about Evelyn in a sweet twirl, the whole while his eyes glued to Olivia, who sits at the table with his father, looking much more than heavenly.

Evelyn's lent her the dress she's in and he can tell she's uncomfortable in it, the silky purple fabric fit her perfectly and clung to her body the right way. Her long hair has been dyed back blonde with some help from Evelyn and she's wearing up and back, out of her face and swept into a twist. The whole ensemble accecuates her slim frame and smaller curves that are much smaller that Evelyn's mesmerizing ones. He's probably holding the most beautiful woman in the hold city in his arms right now, but all he wants and all he sees is the angelic blonde sitting down at their table.

Evelyn talks as she spins around in his grasp and her voice is sweet and innocent, a contradiction to the feeling he's had while he's been here. She smiles at him and he returns it with his own cocky grin. She is enjoyable company and a very good dancer. He spins her out to the soft jazz piano before turning her close to him.

"So," starts Peter, "What has the last twenty years brought to you?"

She smiles at him and laughs, a sweet and delicate sound that makes him curious.

"Me?" she answers incredulously, "Well it's hardly a walk in the park, if that's what you want to know. Life's been rough for me. My father raised me after my mother left us when I was ten. He was a good man for the most part, that was until he got drunk. I stayed with him through high school but the minute after I graduated I ran. I got into Yale for law. I stayed two years before dropping out. I had a friend, well I'll be honest an ex, who was into certain…things-"

"And these things being illegal?" Peter laughs. He watches as a light shade of pink splashes her cheeks.

"Well, yes. He got me a doctorate from Yale. I worked in a few firms before being blacklisted. After that I guess I kind of worked all over the world. I worked in the area of helping people do illegal things legally-"

"Sounds risky," Peter mocks with a grin. She turns a darker shade.

"Peter, let me finish!" she says shaking her hair, "But I moved around, I've never stayed anywhere for more than two months. Works for me, I guess."

She shrugs and Peter laughs at her. It's ironic how similar they are in lifestyles. She cocks her head curiously at him.

"What?" she asks.

"Nothing," he says with a chuckle and smile, "Go on."

"Well, I've just moved around lately," she says simply, "I just can't seem to find the perfect place for me. It's weird though, I know I should have been arrested years ago, but never was. It wasn't until two days ago when I was in France that the secretary came to me and said that he made all those arrests go away. But he said I owed him-"

"Seems like a lot of people owe him," Peter mumbles darkly. He spins her around and he's grateful that she didn't hear him.

"It's because I'm a bit of a gambler," she admits playfully. Peter grins widely.

"Are you now?" he says with an eyebrow raised. She laughs as she ducks under his arm. He leans closely and whispers, "You know you always were."

"You remember that!" she laughs in mock embarrassment. Peter nods.

"Swing sets, you were in a green dress and you bet me five dollars you could jump farther-"

"And you jumped and broke you leg and I still beat you but you never gave me five dollars!" she giggles. He laughs with her. They fall quiet as they dance now.

"So tell me more about your life," He says to her, as she's close.

"Well that's it really," she says, "I don't have a permanent apartment in any city and I was actually chased out of-"

"Let me guess, Boston?"

She smiles brightly in surprise, "How'd you know?"

"I read minds," he answers playfully. She glares for a moment.

"Actually no, but I have read the mind of a dead man once, I was working a case and Wa-"

He stops mid sentence and his expression grows dark. He looks into her curious face and smiles, shaking his head.

"It doesn't matter now thought, because that was there and I'm here now."

"What was it like?" Evelyn whispers. He smiles gently.

"A lot like here, only slightly different."

They grew quiet in their dance, and the song was nearing the end. Evelyn spins out one last time before wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I think Livvy wants a dance Peter," she whispers, her breath tickling his ear. Evelyn has taken to calling Olivia, Livvy, and he can't understand why. She seems to like Olivia a lot, which makes him feel more at ease. Peter pulls his face away and looks at her. She smiles and pats his cheek before turning and heading off toward the restroom. Peter's left on the dance-floor by himself. He turns and walks toward Olivia just as Evelyn looks over her shoulder and smiles at him as he heads toward her.

The band plays hallelujah now as Peter reaches Olivia. It's a slow song and he reaches his hand out for her. Her green eyes lift to his open palm before drifting up to his eyes. She takes his hand without a smile or a frown on her lips. He guides her to the floor and he can't help but stare at her steps and movements, the lights and dress making her look so heavenly. He pulls her close, almost flush against him.

And they dance. The tempo is remarkably slow and he just holds her to him. She's tense in his arms and he knows it's because she's jealous. He remembers how jealous she was when he called for her sister. He could almost hear it in her voice and he saw it in her eyes the next day. But she has no reason to be jealous now because he is hers. She is his. He wants her to trust him and to know he's not leaving her again. He runs one hand to her head and frees her blonde hair. He runs his fingers through it gently, brushing it back off her shoulders so it lays flat down her back. Her eyes never leave his face. She's got a thousand questions running through those seas of green but she doesn't know which ones to ask or how to say them. He can't answer them for her either. So she guards her gaze and it makes Peter feel like he's distant again, like she's far away.

She's good at hiding her emotions. She's good at protecting the ones that care about her from the truth. She's let him in for only a brief moment, to test the waters between them. She doesn't know anymore though, he looks at ease here, at ease in his dance. But she knows he just as capable at making appearances and pretenses. She wonders if he's fooling her now, just as she's fooling him.

"Olivia," he whispers, unable to control the undying need to know what she's thinking, "What are you thinking?"

"You like it here."

It wasn't a question or an accusation; it was a statement, bold and blunt.

"Olivia," he says, shaking his head, "How can I like the place I don't belong? How can I like the place I've been so easily fooled by a man, no a monster, who's my father into trusting that he'd make right everything? How can I like the place where the monster tortured you? How can I like the place where I can be a monster-"

"Peter, you're not," she says with a small smile. But he stops her.

"Anywhere," he whispers, his breath on her ear, "That you are is where I am, where I will like it. You said that I belonged with you, and I will always like wherever you are."

His words infiltrate her thoughts and it fogs her brain. She forgets what she wants to say and lets her body take control for the moment.

And he's kissing her deeply, a kiss with a gentle, caring compassion and it feels wrong. The kiss doesn't feel like it should, it feels desperate to her, like he's trying to feel around for someone deeper inside her. But she's what she is on the surface, there is nothing different down deeper. He pulls from her lips and rests his forehead on hers. She waits and composes her thoughts again.

"Are we?" she says carefully, "Ever leaving?"

"Of course we are," Peter says defensively.

"When?" she asks.

"I don't know."

"We have to leave soon," she presses onto him, "We can't stay. Walternate watches me like I'm an experiment. We have to get back-"

"I know Olivia, I know," Peter answers, holding her close, "I'm trying to find a way. But I don't know how the cortexiphan works in you. I don't know how we can get back without it. I have to stay just a while longer-"

"Why?" demands Olivia, again tensing in his arms.

"I made a deal for you freedom," he answers sternly, "That I would make my father's machine work in order for you to be free-"

"Are you really-"

"No never Olivia," he assures her. He touches her cheek with his palm. "But I have to keep up the pretense until I figure this out, till I figure out how to make the cortexiphan work."

"You mean run tests to figure it out?" she accuses. Peter is thrown off guard by her tone.

"Then how Peter?" she asks, "I don't know how it works, you don't know how it works and we have to pretend we've agreed to Walternate's plan to destroy my world. How long do you want to play it fast and loose Peter? How long do you want to con hi-"

"Olivia," he says dangerously, "I did all this for you. I came back because you were calling me, because you needed me to save-"

She stops dancing. He knows he's said the wrong words by the look in her eyes. She's gone cold and put up her walls again. Olivia Dunham never needs saving, at least she never admits it and she certainly doesn't want to hear it from anyone either. She steps away from him and stares up.

"If you're not going to help me,' she whispers. She turns and heads for the doors but Peter catches her by the arm and holds her tightly by the wrist. She struggles against his grasp.

"And where do you think you're going sweetheart?"

Oh, he's done it now. It just slipped off his tongue. She hates it though. But he can't take it back. There is anger in her eyes and she's very clearly unhappy with him. He knows it too. She tries to pull away but Peter roots her to the spot with his grasp. He doesn't realize the strength he's holding her with, he's clinging to her like she's his lifeline, a tether to reality, truth, reason and love.

"I'm going to find William Bell," she answers angrily, "He pulled me through once and he can put me back, with or without you."

Her fingers close around his wrist and wrench his grasp away. He's shocked at her brashness, hurt by her words and confused by her sentence. Then he remembers she doesn't know. She has no idea William Bell is dead. She's leaving him now, her back to him and he's not stopping her. It's like the time he left her; he never looked back. The irony is practically strangling him now, the hold so tight there's no room to even laugh.

And his father watches gleefully from his place at the table, delighted that his plan is working so soon.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

He's found her in central park. It's well past three in the morning and there's a light mist in the air. She's sitting on a bench, a paper in her hands and she's staring off into the blackness. He's a good distance off and he can see her only because she's lit by the streetlight. He doubts she can see him. He's cautious, but he notes her shivering frame and wants to bring her the jacket he holds to his side. He readies himself for a few more moments before he steps into the light and walks toward her.

She doesn't move as he sits next to her. Her eyes scan the darkness. She wonders how long he's been there. She doesn't give him the pleasure of her tears or red eyes because she won't cry. She's not frightened anymore. She wants to go home. She wants to see the damage done by her double. She sighs and looks down into her lap at the paper.

"How long were you there?" she asks. She feels him shrug and look intently at her, hoping that his gaze was enough to make her eyes lift to him.

"Long enough," he answers simply, "I should have to you."

"It doesn't matter," she answers, looking at the paper, "No any more."

"I-"

"Please," she begs in a whisper, "Don't say you're sorry."

"I," he starts again, "I think we can get back."

"How?" she whispers to him. He catches her chin and pulls it. He expects her to pull against him and she does so, lifting her own chin.

"It's going to be hard," he says, watching her face, "It's going to be painful. And," he states, "We may not both make it."

"What do you mean?" she whispers now looking him dead in the eye.

"I mean that," he says, brushing away some blonde hair. He likes the feel of her hair in his fingers. "You have the power to cross over, but I don't. But I've found a way to try, to try to make us both make it through."

"You have to make it through Peter," she whispers, "I won't go back without you."

Peter chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. He had not expected _that. _She never tells him what she wants unless it's important.

"There's a piece of technology," he says, changing the subject, "That my father has to power his machine. I think it's able to tear the fabric of the universes. If I can get it and we can get to Boston where the fabric is the weakest we can get through. You can open the door for us and pull us through."

Olivia is silent, contemplating this information. She had no idea how to activate herself.

"How can we make the cortexiphan work then?" she asks him. He smiles gently at her.

"Leave that to me," he whispers. He's got an idea, if he scares her in the only way he knows how, then maybe it will activate her power, maybe she'll work.

"Now," he says as he pulls the coat out from under his arm, "We should get you back."

"How did he die, Peter?" she whispers, her fingers running over William Bell's picture on the paper.

"He died a hero," he answers her, "He died for-"

He doesn't continue the sentence. He had died for her. But it wasn't her; it was the wrong Olivia. He shudders as he remembers.

"He died for Walter," he recovers. But it's too late; Olivia knows somewhere it was for her. She chomps down her bottom lip as she thinks about it. Peter guides his arm around her and begins to turn her from the bench.

It's suddenly loud and the sirens are blaring. There is flashing lights everywhere and there's a swarm of clinking and loud clashes followed by a sea of voices. Peter feels Olivia freeze and turn to the mode to bolt. But his arm's over her and he's frozen with shock. The shock remains as he's tackled to the ground in an ungraceful movement before being dragged back up to his feet. He watches in horror as Olivia bolts, only to be taken down by men twice her size. She's tough and he watches as she fights them off. But just as she stands up she's hit again with two more men. Then followed by two more men. She's underneath a pile somewhere. He fights the men that hold him back away from her, watching in horror as she's dragged to her feet and tossed like a rag doll forward. There's a hand on his shoulder now.

"Well done, son," comes the sound of his father's voice from behind him. Olivia's head shoots up and her eyes stare at Walter. He looks at Peter with praise before moving in front of him.

"You've caught a dangerous fugitive," he says with a grin. He walks toward her.

"No," Peter says angrily, "No, no. We had a deal. You can't do this, you said-"

"I said," his father cuts him off and glares macliously at him, "That she can stay with you until you're end of the deal was up. But she ran away from you, thus she's become dangerous-"

"No," Peter growls angrily, "No, Walter you can't do this-"

"I do believe I can," he says gleefully, "Take her away."

"No, no," Peter shouts, pulling his arm free from the man that held him. The man reaches back for his arm but he brings his fist to the man's face and watches him fall to the ground. "No, no-"

"Peter," Olivia whispers, "Peter please, how could you let him do this?"

"Livia, no, no, I didn't-"

"My dear, it seems you're not what he wants anymore," his father says, frowning down on her.

"No, no, Livia don't listen to him," Peter pulls against the men that hold him. Her eyes are scared and he's watching her face. She's looking for anything to let her get a hold of, to get her free.

"Walter, let her go! A deal is a deal!"

"My son," he says, looking at Peter, "You didn't think you'd get to keep her until you do your end, did you? I said that she could stay for a while. Now she's going back. It's insurance really, so that you don't go running off to the other universe-"

"Is that what you think we were doing tonight?" Olivia shouts, "That we would be leaving?"

"Frankly, yes," he says with a disgusted frown. "But you're not going anywhere, not while I have you in isolation."

"No, no, Walter!" Peter shouts. Olivia's eyes are shaking; she's scared. She's scared. Scared!

And then it happens.


	11. Chapter 11

**firstly i want to apologize for the wait. my muse left me and i was lost for a bit. then i had some other pressing matters to tend to, but here is the next chapter. I don't know yet how many are left, but i really am glad with everyone who takes the time to review this story, you have no idea how much they mean to me. And without further ado, i give you the next installment of His Olivia!**

There is a man. He has no hair. He is not from here or there. He wears a black suit with a white shirt, a single American flag pin on his lapel. He wears a fedora on his hairless head. He is ageless. He does not age. He never speaks. He always watches. He's always watching. And he never interferes with anything.

Until now.

He is not supposed to interfere. They are not supposed to interfere. They have never before interfered. They watch time, observe human action and learn. They show up for only important events. They are secretive, a hybrid of something, able to disguise themselves for humans and pass seamlessly through time without aging or being noticed-at least in most universes. One universe recognizes their existence while the rest go completely blind to them. But under any circumstances they were not to interfere, and never, never where they allowed to pause time space.

Until now.

It is in a universe ruled by a powerfully dangerous man, a man with no remorse for decisions. It's night and there are lights everywhere. But time has been paused, and in the knick of time as well. There are flames erupting from a woman, a woman with long blonde hair and frightened green eyes. The concrete has burst into flames around her and the guards already caught in the flames are frozen with faces twisted in pain. There is a young scruff looking man standing a distance off, he's green eyes are wide with fear as he stares at her. His fist had been bleeding but the drop of blood that had fallen from his fist remained suspended in mid air, a few inches from the ground. Other men stand around with drawn guns, horror scrawled across their faces. One man watches with intrigue from his aging face. This is the ring leader of the crazy circus that has been frozen by this man.

And he walks smoothly into the center of the chaos and glances at his watch nonchalantly. He straightens as a blaring white light appears. Moments later he is joined by two other men dressed identically to his. There are each carry a simple black brief case as they gather. It is quite for a moment.

"You have created a pause," one of the three men states. The others watch him.

"It is become an irregularity." The way he speaks is strange, as if English was not his first, second, third or fourth language.

"It is not on schedule," agrees the last of the three.

"It must be fixed." The men have agreed.

"I do not see it being fixed without interference," states one man. The others look.

"Interference is forbidden," states another man.

"It must be done. We must interfere."

"It will be a mistake," one argues.

"It is a mistake not to," the third urges.

"I see now," he corrects himself.

"It is decided," they agree. Each man looks at each other then at their watches before nodding to each other. The first man on the scene nods. The other two agree and move away. In the same flash they have disappeared. The man is left alone.

He is not to interfere. But the prediction of time is not what it seems here. He knows the battle they wage here is useless. Destruction there is worse. He brushes his suit carefully and looks at his watch. He glances up and waits a few moments.

Peter's gasping for air and Olivia is screaming. But the world is silent around them. Peter stumbles forward and is grasping his chest as Olivia feels like her mind is being ripped from her body. She looks up to meet Peter's gaze as he stumbles around. Both turn toward the man that has released them from the frozen time.

They are confused, dazed and lost. Time around them has stopped. They both don't know how it has occurred. An observer stands in the center of the flaming battle that has been frozen. He watches them and he finds himself inside Peter's mind, the cortexiphan has blocked his ability to get into Olivia's head.

"What happened?" the observer and Peter ask at the same time. Peter's fists curl into balls and his jaw flexes. His eyes shift to Olivia who is panting from her actions. She stares at the Observer.

"Tell us what happened," she demands.

"We have interfered" he states.

"Why?"

"It was a mistake."

"What was?" Olivia demands, her eyes wild, "What was a mistake?"

"This should not have happened."

"Tell me!" she shouts, her eyes heavy and wild.

"We have fixed our error."

"What error?" Peter growls. The man looks at him. His eyes are full of the same questions that Peter has not yet voiced. The man steps close to them and grabs onto Peter's arm. He retches himself free.

"What is going on?" Peter asks. The man stares.

"We are leaving," he says, this time firmly taking hold of Peter's arm. He looks at Olivia.

"It would be safer if you held onto him."

Olivia nods and wraps her arms around Peter's waist. He feels slightly at ease with her arms around him. The observer smiles at him.

"She is quite a woman," he comments in Peter's ear, but Peter cannot reply as he feels himself being ripped in the air before feeling softness underneath his feet. He feels Olivia loosen her hold on his waist. She stares up at him and then out and away.

"We made it Peter," she whispers to him happily, "Look Peter, we are home."

Peter grins and he attempts to lift his eyes. But there is an unsettling feeling in his stomach and his eyes roll into the back of his head. His legs give out and things have gone black.

Peter sinks into the sand outside his old house on the beach. Olivia falls into the sand next to him and shakes his shoulders.

"Peter," she whispers, "Please, don't do this again."

But Peter does not wake.

**Was it worth the wait? :\**


	12. Chapter 12

**So this is a little interlude between the plot and stuff. It does however, have to do with the story, so read closely, it kind of sums up whats happened to our friend Peter since he's been in the other world and come back. The inspiration for this chapter comes from the song Supernova by Mr. Hudson and if i were you it'd be helpful to listen to is as well as read this at the same time. If not that's okay.**

**and onward!**

Chapter twelve.

There is something terribly wrong with this dream. It is not a dream, Peter decides, but a nightmare. There is nothing he wants to see here. He feels wrong, out of place, and he is not himself. Though it is only a dream, he feels trapped there, standing on the lawn of a mansion that sits on the coast. The sun is shining and he glances around at the place, watching people coming and going in happiness. He follows the crowd into the large sandy gates without his mind telling his body too. He feels so out of place.

The house is large and beautiful, a Spanish styling with tan roof shingles and large glass windows. The driveway is paved with sand and a large fountain is placed among the small bushes, the water a bright blue color. Peter follows the crowd around the side of the mansion, and he notices everyone is dressed nicely and he glances down at his outfit. He is dressed in a suit as well. He follows a couple as they round the corner of the mansion and he stops.

He is at a wedding. He is staring at the groom. He is the groom. He is attending his own wedding. It makes his head spin. There are faces staring up at him and he does not recognize any of his groomsmen. He stares at himself closely; he looks nervous. Peter glances around the yard. The view is amazing. There is water behind the altar and it is a perfect day for a wedding. Flowers decorate every chair, beautiful purple orchids, and there is a long white carpet heading up towards him. Behind him and his groomsmen there is a large orchestra. He hears them playing the wedding march and he steps aside.

He watches as a flower girl walks about the isle. Her hair is a curly brown and at first he does not recognize her. She looks around and he sees her face, it is so familiar. Her green eyes are smiling up as she throws petals around. She skips merrily to the left side of the altar and sits on a woman's lap. He frowns. The woman is his mother. How did she know this familiar looking child? Peter watches as the first of the bridesmaids walk in. He recognizes none of them. But just as he thinks that, he sees one he knows.

She has blonde hair, beautiful sleek blonde hair. His first thought is it is Rachel, but her body is much thinner than Rachel's. She turns her body and he gasps. She looks beautiful in the lavender dress. He's at a loss for words for a moment before he shakes his head. There was something wrong with this though, if Olivia was here, then who was the bride? Peter's question was about to be answered. He turns his head and looks at the woman making her way down the isle. It wasn't Olivia. It wasn't Rachel.

It was Evelyn.

She looks beautiful, beautifully wrong. Her hair is twisted up and there is a smile spread across her face. But Peter frowns. He cannot be marrying her. The he recognizes the little girl's hair. He watches the little girl as she smiles at Evelyn, and then he watches himself as he smiles at her. No. This wasn't supposed to be happening. He backs away slowly, the scene changing quickly.

He's inside the house and the wedding is over. There is a loud party raging on and he wanders through the crowd. He sees himself, dancing with the flower girl. Her feet are on his shoes and she is giggling loudly. Her eyes match his own. Her smile is exactly the same as his. His eyes go wide as he steers away from himself, looking for anything else. He sees Evelyn and his father dancing happily and he sees his mother dancing with a boy with blonde hair. His eyes are green as well, but they are not Peter's. Peter watches as the boy spins his mother around. He has to be about twelve.

Then Peter notices Olivia. She is sitting by herself at a table in her beautiful dress, downing a glass of champagne. There is a dog next to her, keeping her company. She smiles at the dog, but it does not touch her eyes. Peter wanders his way towards her and he looks at her eyes. There are sad and worn and it breaks his heart. He watches her as she lifts her eyes as she glances past him. Her eyes are watery as she glances at him, dancing happily with his daughter. Olivia almost smiles as she tears her eyes away from them to see his mother dancing with the young boy. She sighs and smiles and Peter smiles at her. He watches as her attention is grab.

There is himself, approaching her. Her gaze is no longer sad and broken or happy, but stone cold. Her eyes are emotionless and he shudders. He watches as he smirks at her and reaches for her arm. Olivia twists under his grasp and stands. He can see he's hurt her but she loves him. She agrees to a dance and Peter watches as they both move to the dance floor. Olivia wraps her arms around him and he holds her in equal. She does not smile at him though, and she avoids his gaze at all costs.

His heart is breaking at the smug look on his own face. He looks content with hurting Olivia. He looks like his father. He wants to punch himself. Peter watches as he dances with Olivia, twirling her in and away from her in the ballroom. Suddenly the young boy he had seen dancing with his mother tugs on Olivia's dress. She looks down and smiles. Peter watches as the boy turns his face to Peter and he frowns.

He watches himself and Olivia fighting. He cannot believe his eyes as he fights with her. Her son stands there coolly and he tries to defend his mother. Peter watches himself yell at the young man. The boy retaliates by throwing a punch. Olivia is shock. Peter watches his face grow dark and he glowers at her. He watches himself yell at her before pointing to the exit. His eyes are welling up with tears as are Olivia's. Olivia returns with a cool glance at him before whispering a harsh word and leaving. He turns to see his mother watching as well, her eyes tearing up. The young boy waves, and Peter swears he mouthes 'grandma' at her.

Peter stumbles from the party scene and into another one. He sees himself standing in the driveway, his arm lovingly around Evelyn and his daughter by her side. He's smiling out at a crowd of press and he assumes he's telling his story of how he returned. Peter feels himself getting sick. He looks at his image as he smiles and kisses Evelyn lightly. He watches as a teenage boy walks up from the crowd. His hair is blonde and his eyes are green. He watches himself as his expression grows dark and Evelyn frowns. The young girl is looking at him curiously. Peter shoos him away with a way of his hand, but his mother reaches out for the boy. The media is watching as the elderly woman is hugging the son Peter does not love. Peter glances around the scene Olivia must have been there somewhere. He catches a glance of her sitting in the house, a glass of wine in her hand as she looks out. She is frowning.

The scene shifts and Peter is alone now. He walks by himself into the darkness and he has the urge to call out for someone. But there is no one there. He walks further and there is the house. It is dark and boarded up now and there are cobwebs on the gate. He presses his face against the gates and is confused. He glances down at the ground and sees a paper. His face is on the cover and there is another picture of Olivia. Her face is sad and worn and she looks emotionlessly at the cameraman. Peter sees himself with the same devious grin that his father wears. He looks more and more like the vicious man. There underneath the picture is the caption. It says he has murdered Olivia. Peter reads the quote he says.

_She is, I mean was a no one, a no one from another place. She didn't belong._

Peter's on the shore now and it is dark. Olivia is there and she is crying. Peter sees himself on the shore as well. He looks angry. Olivia looks broken. They are fighting. She is pleading with him. She mouths that she wants to go home. He sees himself saying he does not want to leave. Peter shakes his head. He raises a hand against her-

Peter convulses violently on the bed. Olivia is sitting there by his side. He has been asleep for a week now. She does not dare more him. His eyes are closed but there is movement underneath them. She reaches for his hand and takes it, feeling how cold and clammy he feels. She can tell he is not enjoying his dream. His head turns violently from one side to the other and she squeezes his hand.

"Please Peter," she whispers, "You can make it through."

**And breathe :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**MUCHOS APOLOGIES for the delay! My muse had a minor brain fart. I promise, promise promise to have two more chapters up by thursday! It's gotten really angsty and i hope to change that really sooon! So for now, please enjoy this!**

**P.S. all feedback is so most welcome :)**

Chapter Thirteen

It's late at night and the moon is high over the cold water. There is no wind but it is cold and nippy for the August month. The only light emits from the moon high above and the stars. Olivia sees no trace of other human life here and it is strangely comforting to her. She does not feel the need to be with anyone. She feels the need to be with only one person. But that person is not here, he has not been here for nearly a week now and Olivia wonders if he'll ever wake up. She is grateful to be alone because there is no one in the world she would want to see her tears.

The shore is soothing and comforting and she is wrapped in a blanket. Her blonde hair remains un-brushed and waves around as the ocean rolls in a soft breeze and pushes it out. Her eyes are weary from the lack of sleep but her mind is overloaded. She cannot sleep now. If she does it is minimal amounts and she awakes in sweats and with fear-riddled eyes. Sometimes when she wakes so frightened Peter glimmers in the darkness, but she relaxes instantly when she sees him, only to be put into a minimal panic and a whole lot of pain when she realizes he has not woken.

His fits of convulsions have yet to cease and have not diminished. Olivia's worry grows with every morning. She holds his hand as he lies there and the rare moments of sleep she gets, her face never turns away from his. She wakes looking at his ailing form only to cause her more panic, more hurt and more heartbreak. But tonight she's found relief in the cool midnight air and it gives her the chance to clear her mind of its confusion.

She doesn't know what this is because she's never felt this before. She doesn't want to think its love, because she can practically feel that he won't ever feel that way about her. She knows it's not the lust that she felt for John, a sick confusion that she took for love. She wants to know what this is and why she can't place the feeling on anything. So she shakes her head and heads for the rolling waves, dipping her feet into the chilling Atlantic waters, hoping that the sensation will somehow clear her mind.

It's hard to believe Peter was once a little kid that grew up here. She thought of everything she knew about him, everything she thought was the truth about him and she wanted both to smile and cry. She feels his pain as the water hits her toes and she inhales. Now is not the time to show her weakness. She needs him just as he needs her. She needs to know what's happened and where was the other her? Her mind races through a thousand questions as she hears a small movement from the house.

She races with inhuman speed through the glass door. The movement freezes as she does and her heart races. It could be Peter, but he would have called for her. Blood fills her ears as she peers around the dark corner. There's a shadow down in the main hallway and she freezes. Who could it be? She instantly thinks of a list of people that might come, but its short and she felt a new fear rising. What if this someone she does not know? What if this is a complete stranger, stumbling into the wrong place at the wrong time?

She shakes her head at that idea. There was no such thing as concidenses in her eyes anymore and this person clearly was here as a result of something. Olivia grabs the nearest thing she can and it's a picture but she doesn't bother to think of what it could be. She holds her breath and moves silently down the hall towards the shadow. Her steps are near silent but the shadow freezes and Olivia fears she's been caught. She prepares to make her steps quick and strike when the light flicks on and she's revealed into the light.

"Who the hell are you?" asks one of the men in the room. He's in all black and his fingers are held steadily on a trigger of a gun. Olivia sees another man standing not far from him with a box in his grip.

"Olivia Dunham, FBI!" she shouts easily. Both men's eyes go wide and they run. Instinct directs her as she chases them from the house. She doesn't know what she'll do if she catches either one of them, but it doesn't seem to be much of an issue because they turn a corner in the blackness and she loses them. She silently and mental screams at herself for letting them get away before trudging slowly into the house she ran from.

The box they were going through was a box of photos. Family photos. Olivia's eyebrows grew in confusion. What was in the box the man held that was so important to them if it was in this box? She looks at the photos and frowns. Something is wrong. There is no Peter, yet there is a Walter and an Elizabeth. Olivia digs deeper and finds something that confirms her suspicions.

It's an old faded newspaper article depicting the kidnapping of Peter. Olivia literally feels the color draining from her face. The observer hadn't taken them home, just away. But it didn't explain Peter's illness now. She felt even more confused than ever. Her heart ached. All she wanted was to go back to her reality, the reality she's chasing but unsuccessfully closing in on. She sinks to her knees by the box and fights tears in her eyes. She wants everything to be simple, easy. But she knows it's far from that. What did these men want with a box of memories? She held the newspaper gingerly in her fingers and stood up to head back to Peter's room.

She's been silently crying for a while now. She cries silently, sobs are useless, and she remains in the same curled position. She just wants home. She doesn't know why Peter's sick, she doesn't know why he won't wake, she doesn't even know if he's not brain dead or not. She doesn't know why the observer brought them here. She doesn't know who those men where or why they didn't attack her. What was in the box? With her head bowed she curls her face up near Peter's litheless hand and feels the beginnings of sleep coming. It should for the sun's nearly up and she's been up all night. She stares at Peter's lifeless face contorting and twisting from peace to pain in seconds. She breathes in his scent and closes her eyes.

He begins to move. At first she's unsure of it, but she feels it again. Through the thick wool blanket she feels his torso moving. She hears his heartbeat and his breathing become more alive than unconscious. She lifts her head to see him flexing his fingers. His eyes flutter open and then shut, then open again. She's there and he turns to see her.

"Olivia?" he whispers unsure if its' reality or dreams. Her face becomes more real and he sees tracks of tears. He becomes confused, anger and fear mixing in his eyes.

"Olivia?" he repeats and she nods. "Olivia. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Peter," she says with a half smile, "I'm so happy to see you alive."

"Yeah," he answers, "Me too. Hey, welcome home."

She turns her head and bows it and Peter senses something wrong. He sits up but she stands and moves away. There is something she's going to say. She picks up her head and he sees her face has returned to all business.

"We're not home yet, Peter," she whispers.


End file.
